We had a horse in the Derby

Yesterday was the last Saturday in April, which means that next Saturday will be the first Saturday in May.  It has been a beautiful spring in the bluegrass, but it is time for the racing season to move from Lexington to Louisville.  Time for the Run for the Roses.  I have my mint infused simple syrup already in the frig; it will steep all week.

Speaking of bluegrass, I finally got a clear vision on what that looks like.  You can see the small blue flowers in the grass in our back yard.

Anyway, we love to tell stories in my family.  I love to tell stories.  One of my favorite stories is that we had a horse in the Derby, in 1946.  He was named Kendor, after named for Uncle Kent  and Aunt Dorcas.

Dorcas at 9 years old

Kent 1941

The family had moved from St. Louis to Central Kentucky after a particular bit of good fortune revolving around an oil field in Illinois.  Dorcus had loved horses from early on and Grandfather was ready to indulge in his dream of being a gentleman farmer and horseman.  As my friend Kim says, the best way to make a small fortune in the horse business is to start with a large one.

Grandfather Denzil talks with the jockey

Kendor was a mudder, which means he ran better on a wet track.  It rained leading up to the Derby in 1946 was not wet enough on race day to give him the advantage he needed.  I'd heard about this race forever, but always wanted to know a little more.  Then we found the broadcast and the Friday Courier Journal article about the race. Listen for the call ending with "As you might expect" in describing Kendor's last place finish. That part still stings just a little bit, actually.

Aunt Leslie was at that race with the UK band before she met Uncle Donn.  They were married in the summer of 47, a little more than a year later.  Uncle Kent would maintain a life long interest in thoroughbred horse racing and make a career out of it, as editor of the Blood-Horse magazine.

Now, some of the family stories are apocryphal, or at least verging on it.  My favorite part of the derby story is that there is proof that it is true.  Proof that is easier to share at a dinner party than an obscure old recording.  All KY folks know about the derby highball glasses.   Many don't know about the loser cups.

You can see Kendor listed at the bottom of that middle row.

I'm glad to be living in horse country again.

The Park

Cousin Bryan calls it "The Park" and, after all, it's his land, so we call it "The Park".  I have a Junior Park Ranger pin

in my hat, so it's clear that I'm official as I do my multiple daily rounds.

The two terriers want to be there all the time. It's their exercise and their adventure.  All I have to do is say "Let's go to the Park" and they are up and ready to head out the door.

Sparky checking the water below the dam

Scout checking the debris pile

We spent several afternoons last summer on the kayak.  Sparky especially loved the rides.  I'm ready to be back on the water.  It needs to warm up a little, because sometimes getting in or out of the kayak can be a wet transfer.

It strikes me that I wrote about the creek and the dam in 2008, before I had even an inkling that I would live here.  Be careful what you wish for...

We had lots of great snows this winter, and even had the creek freeze enough to stand/glide on it some:

But spring is finally coming. And after that, summer.  The best part of the park is the tire swing. Resurrecting a multi-generational tradition, we are once again jumping into the creek off of the tire.  Best we did in 2013 was 5 on the tire at a time.  I think we made 9 back in the 70s, but then, we were smaller in the 70s.  Can't wait for things to warm up just a little more.

The Elkhorn is beautiful all year round, and I draw peace and strength from my time here. 

Come visit us out on the creek.